"Got a kid fireman here—'nother of y'r officers' dog-robbers?" he demanded.
Toomey whirled on him in an instant, in spite of Geordie's quick-gripping hand. "You're boss on this train, Cullin," said he, savagely, "and you know I can't jaw back as you deserve, but if Bob Anthony happens to be where he can hear of that remark, you'll get your time or I'm a liar."
For a moment Cullin stood and glared, wrath and humiliation commingling. Graham it was who quickly stepped forward and interposed.
"Yes, I'm playing kid fireman, Mr. Cullin," said he, quietly, "and I was told by the division superintendent if any trouble arose to give this to the conductor," whereat he held forth a card on the back of which dimly appeared some written words. Over these Cullin glanced, unappeased, until he came to the last line and signature. Then a curious change swept slowly over his face. He looked Graham carefully, doubtfully from head to foot, slowly thrust the card in a waistcoat-pocket, and was turning silently away when Geordie hailed him, a ready smile on his young face.
"I'll trouble you for the card," said he. "I may meet other conductors."
Slowly Cullin fumbled for it, twiddled it between his fingers, and finally, half reluctant, restored it. At that instant, faint, distant, but distinct, came the sound of the whistle of the belated No. 4. "That's for Spearman's now," thought Geordie, but so tense had been the scene that for a moment no man spoke.
Then Toomey gave tongue.
"She'll go by here kiting," said he. "Ten miles down-grade and a two-mile straightaway from Cimarron Bend, out yonder." Again the whistle, and nearer. "That's for the crossing at the creek. By gad, she's just jumping! Hang onto your hair when you see her head-light and scramble for the cab."
Another whistle, two short blasts and a long. Nearer still, yet still out of sight; and then presently there shot into view, over a mile away to the west, even though the gray light of the summer's dawn now overspread the landscape, the glare of a head-light. It was No. 4 coming full tilt.
And then—surprise! From steam-drum and 'scape-valve jetted clouds of flat-driven steam. No. 4 had suddenly "shut off," and was now coasting downhill like a huge toboggan.